“Yes.”
“I meant to tell you in there, about what you’re trying to do? I think it’s pretty great.”He waved as he pulled away. Standing outside the hotel room and waving back, I wished Soraya could be there with me.SOHRAB HAD TURNED OFF THE TV when l went back into the room. I sat on the edge of my bed, asked him to sit next to me. “Mr. Faisal thinks there is a way I can take you to America with me,” I said.
“He does?” Sohrab said, smiling faintly for the first time in days. “When can we go?”
“Well, that’s the thing. It might take a little while. But he said it can be done and he’s going to help us.” I put my hand on the back of his neck. From outside, the call to prayer blared through the streets.
“How long?” Sohrab asked.
“I don’t know. A while.”
Sohrab shrugged and smiled, wider this time. “I don’t mind. I can wait. It’s like the sour apples.”
“Sour apples?”
“One time, when I was really little, I climbed a tree and ate these green, sour apples. My stomach swelled and became hard like a drum, it hurt a lot. Mother said that if I’d just waited for the apples to ripen, I wouldn’t have become sick. So now, whenever I really want something, I try to remember what she said about the apples.”
“Sour apples,” I said. “_Mashallah_, you’re just about the smartest little guy I’ve ever met, Sohrab jan.” His ears reddened with a blush.
“Absolutely,” I said. “Absolutely.”
“And we’ll drive up those streets, the ones where all you see is the hood of the car and the sky?”
“Every single one of them,” I said. My eyes stung with tears and I blinked them away.
“Is English hard to learn?”
“I say, within a year, you’ll speak it as well as Farsi.”
“Really?”